


Sleep Is A Terrible Thing

by mrs_meloncholy



Series: Sleep Sucks [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, M/M, Nightmares, Rewrite, Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 02:58:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5189540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_meloncholy/pseuds/mrs_meloncholy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He dreams of the blood, and the alchemy, and a twisted version of his mother’s sobs, and sleep stops sounding like an escape real quick</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleep Is A Terrible Thing

**Author's Note:**

> So I just really liked this idea and wrote it a while ago, but I'm ridiculously in love with angsty things so I wanted to rewrite my fic and make it more dramatic hurt/comfort-y. You don't have to read the other, it's nothing like this one at all, just the same basic concept.  
> Anyway, I hope you like it~

The image of the ceiling burned into his retina, imprinting on his frontal lobe, and sinking into the gray matter of his brain while his thoughts ran wild in his head. He was tired. So, so _tired_. Yet, here he was, at two am, staring at the dark ceiling and watching the wisping, curling, waves of light spin through his vision. He could almost feel the green and blue showering across his eyes, but he knew it was just phosphenes glowing around in there.

It’s the only thing he can focus on. Only thing he _wants_ to focus on, more like. As soon as his mind wanders, the swirling lights change to the splatter of blood on the ground, and much much worse. His head aches with exhaustion, as does every bone in his body, but he can’t sleep. He won’t.

Because the nightmares dig into his flesh, grinding their claws against his bones, and slithering their way under his skin until he pukes them out. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t purge them out of his mind, and he can’t run from them any longer, because sooner or later he falls into their trap, and it takes weeks to crawl back out again.

This time, he’s too deep, he can’t even see the light anymore.

And being awake is just  _grating_ ; every sound, every sliver of light that filters in from his bedroom window like pins and needles in his brain. He’s tried as hard as he can to tack up blankets, but then the light bleeds from under his door. Even when it’s not the light, it’s the sound. The watch in his pants pocket on the floor, the cars outside, the soft sighs of the old apartment building. Every creaky floorboard, every distant murmur from the apartment downstairs is a screech and a scream, and gnawed on his eardrums like nails on a chalkboard.

Even on those perfect nights, where the curtains fell just right and cut off every stray beam of light, and the transmuted earmuffs actually blocked out all sounds; it was his thoughts that kept him awake.

He could think for hours, his brain circling random alchemical articles, or replaying all his failures incessantly, or wandering to all the things he could never have. His thoughts tended to center on those the most; everything he’d never allow himself to have. Like a second to take a break and catch his breath.

He had so much to _do_ still.

His road didn’t end with getting Alphonse’ body back, no, it was much longer. He didn’t have time for himself. He couldn’t pause and contemplate why he hasn’t stopped thinking about Mustang since he was fifteen, or why he squirmed at every glance the man sent his way. He didn’t have time for anything like that, and the pressure was too much, the _guilt_ was too much. Roy was far from his goal, and Ed had made a silent promise that his conscience would never let him break.

Soon, frighteningly soon he knew, _he’d_ be the one to end up breaking under the weight of it all.

Nights like this, his heart would pound even when his breaths came out slow and steady, and by now the darkness was suffocating, and the silence was disorienting and his fight or flight instincts raged for him to run. He’d end up spending the night on the kitchen floor with the sink running and every light in his apartment on.

He just wanted to _sleep_. Peacefully, vacantly, and in a void of darkness.

He didn’t want his memories to bleed into his dreams, and he didn’t want his fucked up insecurities to keep him up anymore. Nightmares woke him up at night, and the heavy weight of his independence kept him awake during the day; refusing to let anyone know that he woke up most nights with a choked scream, clutching at the empty sheets after laying there for a mere three hours. No one needed to know that even his daydreams were infiltrated by self disgust and gut wrenching guilt. No one needed to know that he saw the gate’s eyes dismaying in the darkness. No one needed to know that it was his mother’s voice he heard in the ringing silence. No one needed to know that while everything was perfect, and right in the world now, he was _here_ ; stagnant and still, and slowly breaking.

“...and these arrays were found at the scene. They’ve been circulated through a few contract alchemists working with the military police, but none have been able to figure out what their use was other than the apparent elemental symbols, and-” The talking stopped, but Ed’s eyes were zoned out towards a bookcase to his left, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t blink them into focus again, “Fullmetal, are you alright?”

Forcefully tearing his eyes away from the brown and black leather spines, Edward looked blankly at Mustang before rubbing at his eyes, “Uh, yeah, jus’ didn’t get much sleep last night.” He excused, and tries to remember if he said that last time too.

Dark eyes narrow on him as an eyebrow arches disbelievingly, “When did you fall asleep?”

 _I didn’t_ , “Around two.” He lies, and picks up the folder from the General’s desk, “I’ll work out these arrays and have ‘em in by the end of the day.”

There’s unsaid concern in Roy’s dark eyes that makes Ed feel simultaneously nauseated and touched, but he nods, “Dismissed.”

The next night he dreams of his mom; locked in the basement of his childhood home.

He can hear her fingernails digging into the wooden door, which rattles on it’s hinges from the force as he stands a foot away with the key in his hand. His vacant eyes were on the drips of blood coming from the bottom of the door, no doubt from splinters and missing fingernails from her attempt at escaping. He can feel the words in his throat, rising like bile, _I brought you back, but I don’t need you anymore_. He woke up with his stomach in his throat, and he could still hear her sobs echoing in his head as he sat in front of the toilet. His apartment was quiet save for the watch ticking from the bedroom across the hall.

The office is loud the next day, Havoc going on about a successful date while Ed sits with his eyes on the paper on his desk. His vision is mottled with dots and he could’ve sworn the room was waving a bit. There was also a fly buzzing around drunkenly bumping in and out of his vision, but no one else seemed to notice.

Sleep deprivation, it seemed.

“Edward,” Looking up, he just realized the room had drastically quieted and everyone was staring at him. Riza was standing in front of his desk with a concerned expression, “The General wanted to see you.” She says, voice gentle yet none of the emotion from her expression showed through.

With a crack of a fake smile, Edward stands and heads for the private office, finding slight relief in the fact that the rest of the office goes back to normal; loud laughs and Havoc’s mild outrage at being teased. Mustang is sitting at his desk when Ed walks in and shuts the door behind himself, lacking his usual flamboyance in favour of not giving himself a headache.

“What’d you want?” He asks, flopping onto the couch.

Roy leans his head in his hand, a pensive look on his face, “Alphonse called me.”

Ed’s eyes immediately drop to his feet as he kicks them onto the coffee table, “And?”

There’s a sigh, before Roy says, “He’s worried about you, Edward. You haven’t talked to him in three months, and when I mentioned to him that you weren’t sleeping well, he-”

“I’m sleeping fine, bastard, you shouldn’t go makin’ Al worry.” He snapped, and crossed mismatched arms over his chest, “Was that all? You wanted to grill me about not talking to my brother, as if it’s any of your damn business anyway?”

Roy glared sternly, “It’s very much my business when your brother calls me asking about you nearly every week, and I’m not grilling you, Edward, I’m concerned.”

“Well there’s nothing to be fuckin’ concerned about, bastard, so just leave it.” Ed snapped, standing up quickly and regretting the action instantly.

He held his head as dots began to cover his eyes and spin around in front of him, for a second, he swore he was going to pass out, but his knees gave out before he got the chance, and he landed back on the couch with a grimace. Once his vision cleared, Ed rubbed at his temples, just waiting for the, ‘ _I told you so_ ’ speech from Mustang, but to his surprise it didn’t come.

Instead, Roy walked over with a small sigh and Ed looked up as he stopped in front of him, “You need to sleep, Edward.” He said, voice gentle and laced with worry that shook just a bit when Ed’s name came from his lips, “Try and lay down for a while, if you fall asleep I’ll wake you up before I leave.”

Ed just shook his head, staring blankly at the ground as he tried to force his expression into some form of irritated indifference, “I won’t be able to fall asleep, Mustang.”

“Just try,” Roy replied, and walked to the windows behind his desk, shutting the blinds before sitting back down at his desk, and looking at Ed expectantly, “Give it half an hour, and then you can go back to staring at the same piece of paper for the rest of the day.”

Edward glared at the teasing tone and layed down with an irritated huff.

As soon as he shut his eyes, he saw the knotted, mangled pile of skin and bones in the middle of that godforsaken array. He could smell the blood and feel the rip and pull of the alchemy as it took and took and took, all that he had and more, until all that was left was a stupid, arrogant ten year old boy with one arm and leg. He could hear Al’s screams for help riddled with desperation, that was quickly followed by the swing and slam of the Gate’s heavy doors. He could feel the stomach dropping dread in the moment he realized he had ruined his own life single handedly.

The murky, panicky memories drifted and morphed into dreams faster than Edward would’ve liked. Soon, his dreams whisked him away and shoved him into another twisted memory;

_He was in the underground network of tunnels, watching Mustang slowly unravel in front of him, hatred pouring into every one of the older man’s steps. Envy was ducking in and out the intricate turn offs as flames roared after him, spinning and spiraling and lighting every inch of the brickwork. Suddenly, Envy leapt in front of Roy, and Edward stepped forward nervously, one hand on Mustang’s arm, stopping him from making the final snap._

_“Don’t you know I didn’t do it, Mustang? It was the pipsqueak! He practically pulled the trigger himself!” Envy shouted, and Edward reeled, stepping back when Roy turned to look at him hatred burning in his dark eyes._

_“It’s true,” Roy said, “You’re the one who told him, you’re the one who got him involved. If it wasn’t for you, he’d never have died.”_

_Ed shook his head, stumbling backwards as Envy laughed over Roy’s shoulder, “Don’t deny it, Fullmetal pipsqueak! You killed him! It’s all your fault!”_

_Mustang held his hand out, ready to snap at any second and glaring coldly, “You killed him. It’s all you fault. You’re the reason Gracia and Elicia cry. You’re the reason Maes is dead.”_

_“No.” Ed said, his voice coming out strangled, and cut off as his heart raced, “No, I didn’t mean to. I didn’t do anythi-”_

_“How can you say that?!” Roy shouted, “You know it’s all your fault. You know you killed him! He’s dead because of you, and your stupid selfishness! Don’t you see what you’ve done? You’re a murderer.”_

_“No! That’s not true, I-”_

_“Kill him!” Envy shouted, “He’s the reason your best friend is dead, Mustang, you want your revenge don’t you? Take it!”_

_Roy grimaced and looked away, “You’re just a murderer, Fullmetal. You kill everyone, one way or another. Everyone close to you gets hurt, and you don’t do anything about it. You deserve this.”_

_**Snap**._

“Mustang!” He said as he woke, voice shaking with the heavy breaths filling his chest. He was sitting straight up as his heart pounded hard in his chest, threatening to bruise his ribs as he looked around in confusion.

Edward saw Roy staring at him in confusion and mild shock from behind his desk, face lit only by the small lamp on his desk. The room was dark and silent, and as soon as reality kicked in, Ed sank back into the couch with a sigh, throwing an arm over his face as he tried to level his breathing.

“Are you okay?” Roy asked, and Ed heard him get up from his desk, but didn’t move an inch.

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he managed a mumble of, “‘M fine.”, and heard Mustang stop beside him.

“You had a nightmare.”

 _No shit_ , Ed thinks but instead, lays his arm off his face and stares up at Roy, surprised to see heavy worry, and understanding pooling in those dark blue eyes, “Yeah.”

Mustang takes a seat on the end of the couch as Edward sits up, making more room and refusing to admit that he wasn’t tall enough to take up the whole thing, “Is that always what wakes you up?” Roy asks, looking at him strangely.

Ed wants to squirm and run and forget everything, but instead, he stays, and runs his fingers through his hair, averting his eyes as he says, “Usually. Most of the time they won’t let me fall asleep in the first place.” He admits quietly, and rubs his eyes, “What time s’it?”

“Just about six. I was going to wake you up soon.” Mustang replied casually, “You got a good six hours in, though.”

Ed’s eyebrows draw together in thought, glancing at the clock as though to double check, and sure enough it was 5:47, “I haven’t slept that long in weeks.”

Roy raises an eyebrow, “That’s incredibly unhealthy.” He comments as Edward stands up.

“Yeah, well, anyway, I’m gonna go home now.” He says awkwardly, not wanting to spend the time figuring out what’s going on in Mustang’s head to make him suddenly act not so like a bastard.

“You should call Alphonse, Edward.” Roy says, standing behind Ed and following him out of the office.

Ed glanced over his shoulder, “Whatever Mustang, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He said, and ignores Riza questioning glance as he leaves the otherwise empty office behind.

The night crawls by slowly. It’s not as bad as other nights, Ed takes comfort in that. But it’s empty, and he didn’t call Al, and now it’s too late, and he’s guilty and so _fucking_ tired, even with the sleep he’d gotten during the day.

He spent two hours reading, but he should know better than doing that by now, because it always keeps him up. Then he ate something hot and vaguely appetizing, showered, and went to bed. In the end, he laid there for hours until his muscles ached from the exhaustion, and his eyes were heavy lidded from staying open so long, and his head was filled with incoherent drowsy thoughts that never developed into the sleep he’s been waiting for. Every time his mind starts to blur at the edges, he hears a car’s engine roar outside, or remembers just how long it has been since he talked to Al, which is longer than the three months Mustang somehow got into his head.

Before Ed can manage to shut his eyes for more than ten minutes at a time, sunlight crests over the horizon and pools onto his carpet. Soon, birds are chirping and his alarm clock is ringing and he's downing a cup of coffee before ducking out the door. The air is warm, summer’s heat threatening to come early this year, and it’s daunting knowledge. Sleeping is twice has hard when he’s sweaty and uncomfortable.

His walk is slow and lazy, taking the shortcuts he usually avoids and getting to the office a whomping three minutes earlier than normal. Everyone else is already there, of course, all offering good mornings before realizing Ed is in no mood to manage any sort of amiable reply. Instead of sitting at his desk, Edward walks straight into Mustang’s office, startling the man before flopping down on his couch.

“‘M sleeping here.” Edward says, though it's far from a request.

Roy had to have said something but it dims on the background before mixing with the monotonous sounds of rustling papers, the scratch of a pen, and the general noises of people nearby. Ed's mind drifts in and out of surprisingly, and pleasantly, empty daydreams, random thoughts committing images that soon flowed into a fitful sleep filled with a peaceful sort of darkness.

It's the first time in weeks probably months, that the nightmares never came. That his sleep is undisturbed, and deep, and certainly the first time where he wakes feeling like he actually slept. He's rested, and the feeling is great, and as soon as he wakes and realizes how late it is, without a word, he walks out of Mustang's office to grab the small stack of paperwork Riza left on his desk and leaves.  His walk home is much better than his walk there, and once he gets inside, he goes straight to bed and collapses.

If he can get even three more hours in he might be making some progress.

Sleep comes, but not nearly as peacefully as earlier. His dreams are riddled with nightmares, whispers from beyond the gate, and the eyes that bore into him hungrily. They see straight through him, see every bit of broken little boy, every weakness and fracture in his resolve. He can feel them burn into his skin and even when he wakes at nine o'clock two hours later, he can feel the hands pulling at him.

He doesn't even try to go back to sleep after that.

“Fullmetal you have to sleep.”

Ed glares, “I slept fine last night, bastard, do you have something for me to do it what?”

Roy pretends he didn't hear the question and carries on, “Edward you're practically asleep on your feet, if you had really slept fine you wouldn't be yawning every ten seconds and you wouldn't look like you have two black eyes. You slept perfectly fine in here why don't you lay down?”

“What part of it's none of your fucking business do you not understand?” He snaps, and crosses his arms.

“The part where you claim it's none of my business,” Roy says, narrowing his eyes when Ed sways a bit, “Why is it you sleep here but not in your own apartment?”

_Why do you care? Why do you give a fuck about me at all?_

With another glare that's probably greatly demeaned by his heavy eyelids, Ed says, “Like fuck if I know, do I have work to do or not? “

“Yes you do, your assignment is to sleep on that couch until you can prove you're getting adequate sleep elsewhere. That's an order, Fullmetal.”

Edward grumbled, but if he was being honest, he wanted to sleep. It was just odd, and disconcerting, that he could only fall asleep, fitfully at least, _here_. He didn’t like to feel dependent on anything, and sleeping was supposed to be easy. It wasn’t supposed to take so much just to shut your eyes, and Ed was sick of being different, and sick of being _weak_. What was different here that made the drowsiness so much easier to latch onto?

In the end, Edward just slumped onto the couch and shut his eyes, letting the scratch of pen on paper, and muted sounds of the office lull him into sleep.

This time, he was met with a pleasant scene. He can’t remember it properly, which is just as well because good dreams aren’t something he wants to wish for anymore. It’s bittersweet really.

In any case, he remembers a warm fire in a quiet room, and someone telling him it’s alright, and that he’ll be okay. It’s one of those dreams that leaves him aching for just a minute more, while at the same time praying for darkness instead.

The ambivalence is killing him, but he prefers it to the dread and helplessness.

Really, anything is better than that

When he wakes, his eyes open slowly, blinking away the bleary vision to take in his surroundings. He’s warm and surprisingly comfortable, and though the last remnants of the dream are slipping from his mind, he can’t find it in himself to be bothered. He’s in the office, which was expected, but it’s dark out, startlingly really considering this time of year the sun sets around eight, and that realization is what really makes Edward wake up because he had gotten into the office at nine, and fell asleep in here at eleven.

Sitting up slowly, Ed feels the warmth slip from his shoulder and realizes there’s a coat laid over him. It smells like spices and storm clouds, and Edward immediately thinks of Mustang, but looking towards the man in question’s desk, he sees the chair is empty, though the lamp is on and casting soft shadows across the room. It’s the sound of the door opening that makes him look over, and he isn’t too surprised to see Roy.

He swears he catches a small smile before the expression is wiped away and replaced with muted happiness, “You slept longer than I imagined.” Roy says, voice low and smooth and Ed can’t help but match the mellifluous tones to the ones he’d heard in his dream.

Blinking a bit, Ed nods, “Yeah, what time is it?”

“Nearing nine.” Roy replies, sitting down on the couch beside him, and Ed’s expression changes to disbelief rather comically.

“What are you still doing here? What happened to waking me up before you went home?” Edward asks incredulously.

“You were sleeping so soundly, I felt bad waking you. You really needed it, Edward, and besides, there was some work I needed to catch up on.” Mustang excuses, before narrowing his eyes ever so slightly, “Are you feeling better? No nightmares, I imagine.”

Ed shakes his head, shifting and still holding the warm jacket over himself, “No, no I had a pretty good dream actually. I can’t really… remember the last time I had a real dream.” He tells him, and feels a crack in his ‘ _everything’s fine_ ’ facade as he sighs, “I don’t want to go back to my apartment, just to sit up all night.”

“I spoke to Alphonse today,” Roy says, and Ed would’ve thought he was changing the subject were he not to continue, “He has a startlingly simple idea as to why you’re sleeping so well here.”

Raising an eyebrow, Ed frowns, “It sounds like you two are conspiring behind my back,” He mutters and tilts his head curiously, “What did he say?”

Roy smiles, properly smiles though it is small and he does look away, “He thinks it’s because of me.”

Edward glares, “That’s ridiculous, Al’s not that stupid.”

With a raised eyebrow, Roy looks at him with a smirk, which is much more familiar, “I wasn’t quite finished, Fullmetal,” He remarks before taking a deep breath, the pleased expression back on his face, “Your brother told me how he used to stay up at night, albeit unwillingly, and watch over you before, whenever you two were somewhere dangerous or new, or just together. He mentioned that while you still had nightmares, you complained of them much more often when you two were separated.”

Ed shifted uncomfortably, leaning into the couch, “What does this have to do with anything?”

Roy’s smile widens, “According to Alphonse, you have replaced him with the second best, being me.” Before Edward can rage and deny, Roy adds, “I have to agree with him, and really, I’m quite flattered.” Which doesn’t help at all.

“That’s fucking ridiculous, bastard, and you know it!” Ed shouts, standing up and throwing the warm black coat over Mustang’s lap.

“Oh? Then what’s your hypothesis?” Roy asks before Ed can walk away.

Spluttering, Ed glares, “I don’t know, but not that. I have nightmares about you, you’re certainly not preventing them!”

Roy stands, eyebrows drawing together, “You have nightmares about me? How so?”

Edward wasn’t really expecting that, and takes a small step back, “What does it matter?”

“Because you’ve no reason to be scared of me, an-”

“I’m not fucking _scared_ of you, idiot! And it’s just stupid dreams anyway, they don’t mean anything.” Ed says, and Roy pauses, expression flickering between a strange twist of anger, and hurt.

“I think you know that’s not true, Edward. Dreams might not make sense sometimes, but they hardly don’t mean anything, especially not for those of us who have so much nightmare material to work with.” He says, and his shoulders fall a bit.

There’s a moment where Ed’s just staring at Mustang, slightly stunned. Something clicks in the back of his mind that the man in front of him knows every nuance of what he’s going through from first hand experience. He drops his soft aureate eyes to the floor between them and hides his face behind his bangs.

“You blame me,” He starts quietly, feeling his shoulders shrink in on himself and suddenly he feels so small, but he continues nonetheless, “In my nightmares, I mean. You blame me for killing Hughes, and call me a murderer. It’s not... It’s never _you_ I’m afraid of. It’s more that I’m afraid you really believe what you’re saying.”

Glancing up, he takes in the wide eyed expression before looking away again and adding, “It’s how they all are, really. One way or another. That or-” He thinks of the blood, and the alchemy, and his mother’s sobs, and just shakes his head, “Worse.” He ends in a whisper.

There are footsteps and Ed barely manages a glimpse before there are warm hands cupping his face and pulling him into a kiss.

The startled gasp is let out into a soft noise that comes from somewhere in the back of Edward’s throat. His hands grip the front of Roy’s jacket as soon as his eyes shut, and he pushes the realization that he’s nearly on his tip toes out of his mind in favour of focusing on the kiss.

It’s sweet and slow and comforting in every way that Ed never thought he’d have. He’d dreamed about kissing Mustang since he was 14, but the reality was so much better. He tasted like coffee and some kind of mint, and the dizzying head spin dragged him in and wrapped him up until he was hooked so nicely he didn’t want to be let go. To think he didn’t have time for this was a stupid excuse for not having the courage to do it himself.

When Roy pulled away, he didn’t go far, leaning his forehead on Ed’s with his eyes still closed as he says, “I _never_ blamed you, Ed,” His voice wavers, holding so much emotion it’s a wonder Ed doesn’t break right there, “Not for a second, and to even _think_ of laying that guilt on you is…” He just shakes his head slowly, and Ed keeps his eyes shut, savouring the blooming warmth fills his chest, squeezing his heart and lungs in such an achingly pleasant way.

Roy kisses his forehead, and pulls him in a hug that Ed melts into willingly, “Thank you,” Ed says, though it’s a bit muffled, and more so a whisper, “For-For everything. Letting me sleep, just everything.” He elaborates, and he can hear the smile in Mustang’s voice.

“Come home with me?”

Ed feels his lips quirk into a smile, looking up at Roy with a happy glint in his eyes, “Yeah, sure, but cuddling with automail isn’t very pleasant.”

Roy grins and Edward’s stomach does a flip and a spin and he’s surely falling much too fast, “Maybe so, but I imagine cuddling with you is. We’ll have to test the theory though, I’m basing my assumption on how inviting the idea is.”

Ed glares but it lacks his usual anger as he tugs Roy towards the door, “Mhm, but just remember, you’re still a bastard.”

“And you’re still a brat.”

The warmth is all encompassing, and Edward doesn’t want to open his eyes, wishing for one more second in the comfort of the bed. Beneath the feather down blanket is love incarnate just waking up beside him, and as soon as they step from this veil of security, they’ll have to leave the house completely. For not the first time in the past three months, sleep sounds so much better than reality. Oh how his life has changed.

“Mmm, Ed, we have to get up.” Roy mumbles as the blonde nestles further into his shoulder, throwing his right leg over his waist.

“But ‘m so comfy.” Edward whines, not opening his eyes as Roy rolls on his side and pulls him closer.

“Yes, love, I know, but there is a world outside waiting for you us, and as responsibility has it, I am greatly needed.” He says, and Ed cracks his eyes open just to glare.

“Do you ever talk like a normal person?”

“Often,” Roy grins and kisses Ed’s nose, “Now get up.” He says, rolling out of bed gracefully before fishing around the carpet for his clothes. Ed watches the show in an artful sprawl and with a smile. Roy looks up once his shirt and pajama pants are on and raises an eyebrow, “Did you sleep well?”

“Amazingly in fact.”

“I’m glad.”

“So’m I.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!!


End file.
